Draco Malfoy stared out of the large window onto the grounds surrounding his home as he absentmindedly stirred his coffee with the tip of his wand. It was a cold, rainy Friday morning and it was his day of from work at the ministry, so he had agreed to watch over his young son Scorpius while his wife Astoria met up with some friends.

“Dadaaa!” the child squealed, more to himself than to his father. He was clenching and unclenching his fists rapidly and drooling down the front of his t-shirt.

Draco winced a little as a long train of baby salvia ran down his son’s chin. Scorpius was a little over a year old now, but Draco still hadn’t got used to the mess such a small being was able to produce. The child really did create mess in whatever he did - whether it be eating (Draco wondered whether any of the food actually made it into his sons mouth), playing (toys and drool were usually scattered everywhere once the child was done), or even bathing, which was supposed to be a very hygienic activity, but Scorpius would manage to wet the entire bathroom with his splashing, and had been known to pee in the bath water a couple of times, which disgusted Draco immensely. That was not to mention the time when Scorpius was a week old and Draco had attempted to change his nappy. The whole experience was so utterly horrific that he had vowed to never do it again.

Draco wondered whether he should get up and wipe the drool away from his sons chin and clothes, but then thought better of it. The minute he cleaned him up he would only start to drool again, so there really was no point.

Young Scorpius had obviously sensed his fathers attention apon him because he squealed delightedly at him and reached out his arms. Draco didn’t move from his seat, but forced a smile at his son. Scorpius, realising now that his father was not going to come to him for a cuddle, began to try to make his own way over to Draco. He shifted his weight from his padded bottom onto his unsteady feet. He crouched there for a while, his bottom wavering uncertainly in the air before he stood up properly.

Draco watched him closely.

Scorpius seemed pleased at his ability to stand. He squealed again. In his excitement his knees buckled and he wobbled precariously before beginning to fall backwards towards the deep grey, marble fireplace.

“Immobulus!” Draco shouted at once, pointing his wand at his son. Scorpius froze, mid-fall. His eyes flickered looking around, but his body remained still. The child looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He decided to go for the crying, as Draco got up and went quickly over to him. He muttered the counter-curse and picked Scorpius up, careful not to get his expensive cashmere sweater dirty. Scorpius was still howling, tears running down his chubby cheeks. Draco patted his back awkwardly and did a sort of jig on the spot, trying to get the child to calm down.

“There there, Scorpius.” he said, wishing that his son would stop the racket he was making, it was deafening! Scorpius seemed to relax a little at the sound of his father’s voice. He hiccupped before grabbing onto Draco’s cheek with his wet, sticky little hand.

Draco turned his head away as a reflex, but he didn’t put Scorpius straight down, even though he had stopped crying now.

“There now, all better. You really should be more careful though, Scorpius, if you’re going to try to walk or stand, you should know better than to do it near the fireplace. It’s marble, you’ll hurt yourself.” Draco spoke to his young son as if he were an adult. Scorpius merely stared into his fathers eyes in awe, and then giggled. Draco smiled back at him a little awkwardly, before putting his son back down.

“Play nicely now,” he told him, patting him on his head.

As he sat back down to watch his son again, Draco felt a pang of worry in his chest. Scorpius was over a year old now, one year and two months to be exact, and he still could barely stand alone. He should definitely be walking un-aided by now, especially as he was a wizard. Even most muggle children could walk at his son’s age, but Scorpius had shown no signs of starting to walk at all. It was a well known fact that wizard babies and toddlers began to walk and talk at an earlier age than muggle children, due to their magic showing through. Come to think of it, Scorpius could barely talk either. This definitely wasn’t normal, especially of a Malfoy child.

What if he was..? But no, of course not. Draco pushed the thought out of his mind. Of course his own son was not a… a squib. He shuddered at the mere thought of the word. What would his friends at work say? His parents? Lucius Malfoy especially. Draco felt his heart flutter strangely, and he realised it was a pang of love for his small son. He went over to him, and sat down on the floor beside him. Scorpius seem delighted that his father had come to play with him, and immediately threw himself at Draco. Draco laughed, and tickled Scorpius before clutching him close to his chest for a hug.

As much as he didn’t show it at times, he truly did love his son. He hated the thought of people talking about him, people rejecting him and not wanting to know him if he didn’t have any magical ability. He swallowed hard. If Scorpius was a squib, then he was going to stick by him all the way, no matter what anyone else said. He wasn’t going to let anyone get in between his family.